


Homeschooled

by RenderedReversed



Series: Shakespeare dorks [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acting, Computer Programming, Literature nerds, M/M, Muggle Technology, Potters are alive, Shakespeare can explain anything to Harry, Tom is a smug hypocritical dork, analogies, established TMR/HP, light quoting, still trying to cover all my bases
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenderedReversed/pseuds/RenderedReversed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry is taking a muggle Computer Science course during the summer and is in over his head, and Tom—bless his soul—thinks up the perfect analogy.</p><p>Or, in which King Lear proves its use outside of being a classic tragedy, and Tom is the smug little shit that Harry is (sometimes) thankful to have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeschooled

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spatzi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spatzi/gifts).



 “Ugh…” Harry groans.

“…”

“Ugggggh…”

“…”

“ _Ugh!”_ Slam.

Tom sighs and gives in. Obviously his boyfriend is in need of his due attention at the moment—which is more important than the summer homework for Charms. He closes his own text, puts his quill down, and pushes away from the wooden table to stand and walk the small way over to where Harry is sprawled over on the couch.

“What’s got _you_ so mentally exhausted?” he asks, light and teasing when he finds his boyfriend’s arm cast over his eyes in the universal position of fatigue.

“ _That_ ,” Harry growls, pointing at an offending book on the coffee table.

They’re at Harry’s house—since they couldn’t very well be at _Tom’s_ room in Wool’s Orphanage—on summer break. Certainly, Lily and James don’t mind, though the latter occasionally casts the Slytherin suspicious looks that only earn him a light _thwack_ on the head from his wife. The Potter cottage in Godric’s Hollow is small, but large enough for visitors, and frankly the size is one of its charms—right besides its homey comfort and lack of the usual pureblood décor.

Both his father and his mother have work today, so Harry had invited Tom over to make things less lonely (not that Tom wouldn’t have come over otherwise; six days out of seven his boyfriend practically _lives_ at the cottage. The only reason he goes back to the Orphanage at all is because the matron assigns him chores to finish, and it isn’t socially polite to sleep at the Potter’s for the entire summer). Of course, since it was still relatively early into summer, Harry knows Tom will probably be doing homework, empty house or no, and so had settled in to doing his own work.

...Which apparently _isn’t_ Hogwarts’ summer homework.

Tom blinks. “ _Computer Science, Object Oriented Programming:_ … _Java Edition_? What is this?”

“Muggle stuff,” Harry vaguely replies. He still hasn’t removed his arm from across his face.

“ _Why_?” As far as Tom knows, the only muggle thing his boyfriend actively researches and cares to read in large quantities is literature. Judging from the cover—and the contents as he halfheartedly flips the pages—it’s definitely not that, but the book is thick enough to qualify as something past the normal casual read.

“Mum thinks it’s important to keep up with the muggle world,” Harry says, not particularly revealing any new information.

Tom mentally shrugs and trudges on. “You know I very well agree with her. Despite their inferiority, it is never wise to underestimate an opponent. Some of their solutions to their lack of magic are actually rather interesting and effective, when all’s said.”

“And you know _I_ think the same way, sans the ‘underestimating the opponent’ part.”

“Yes, _so_ …?” Tom prompts, curious now.

“…Well, I was kinda thinking in the future that I might—well, Hermione’s thinking about it too; we were talking about it earlier, see—that I might… try to combine magic and muggle technology. So they work together. That way we can have things like internet connection at Hogwarts, or phones or something since they’re faster than letters obviously.”

Tom inclines his head. “And both of your parents are muggle-literate,” he adds.

“That too,” Harry lazily nods. “So I figured I’d have to learn about their science. We’ve both been kind of looking into chemistry and physics, but I’ve also been looking at computers on my own, and Mum just recently told me a muggle center was holding free courses on computer science, so I decided to try it… Supposed to be for beginners. But, well, that’s the textbook we’re using, and… _uggggghhhhh_.”

Tom chuckles at that. “What is it?”

“Coding, basically. What makes a computer work. Not what a computer is made of… what’s _inside_. They call it programming. And, well, I guess _that_ is one of the ways how to.”

“Hm. Interesting. And you’re mentally exhausted _because_?” he asks, returning to his original question.

“Well, the beginning concepts were kind of confusing, but the professor was able to explain that pretty well and answer my questions. But now we’re talking about something called ‘recursion’ and no matter how many times he explains it, I’m completely lost. And not even ‘lost like a First Year wandering around Hogwarts’ dungeons’ kind of lost. I’m lost like a First Year swimming in the _Black Lake_ for the first time.”

“Hopefully not during winter.”

“ _Tom_ ,” Harry whines, turning away in embarrassment. The mention of his previously awkward attempt at seduction (or apologizing, as it was) down under was a source of great amusement for Tom, who enjoyed making jabs after he’d gotten over his _own_ embarrassment with the ordeal.

“May I?” Tom asks, waving to the book he’d previously placed back down. Harry couldn’t see him, but he knows him well enough to predict the action and waves back a hand of his own in reply.

“Go ahead,” he says, muffled by the cushions of the couch. “Page 394.”

“You’re already this far?” the Slytherin asks as he flips to the page.

“Well, kinda. I started learning in the middle of summer last year, and because I’m a bit ahead the professor let me go on… y’know, like how you usually go ahead in classes? This recursion thing though… completely new to me.”

“Hmm… Give me a moment, won’t you?”

“Sure thing.”

While Tom occupies himself, Harry finally gets up and moves to the kitchen to fetch them both new drinks. He also takes the time to splash some water on his face, the heat of his frustration previously warming it to uncomfortable levels—especially in the heat of summer. While the cottage was kept cool with heating charms, the air was still a tad too moist for his liking, and he kept to wearing the least amount of clothes as socially acceptable (rather than what his boyfriend considered acceptable, seeing as that would be _nothing_ ).

Without even being aware of it, Harry pouts. Today _would’ve_ been an excellent day to lie around on the floor and read and discuss some poetry. He’d picked up a compilation of sonnets that he’d skimmed just enough to gauge the unfamiliarity, and once it’d passed that he’d all but ran to the cashier to purchase it. Harry loves reading poetry with Tom because Tom always has something interesting to say, or something strange to point out.

…Not to mention, the voice his boyfriend takes on while reading aloud is _to die for_. Tom usually prefers to silently read since his speed is rather quick, but Harry knows just how to ask to turn companionable silence into story time. Besides, he’s pretty sure Tom likes reading to him too, and when they both take parts in a play—

Those are probably the best times. Harry is probably the only person in the _universe_ who has ever convinced Tom to be silly with him—and use silly voices, and do silly things—and no one else besides Harry has _ever_ , _ever_ had the ability (or the guts, or even the thought) to convince Tom Marvolo Riddle (Slytherin genius extraordinaire) to mock sword fight with them.

…Funny story about that one. They’d ended up finding a retractable dagger in the Room of Requirement, as well as some wooden swords, and—

“Have you gotten lost again, my ladybird?”

Harry jumps. “Merlin’s soggy— _Tom_! Don’t _do_ that!”

Tom laughs, pressing against his boyfriend’s back at his arms wind about his waist. “Your fault for not paying attention.”

“—And why am _I_ a _lady_ bird?”

“ _You’re_ the one who wanted to be my wife. I was all for being your quick-tongued, fine-eyed lovely lady, but _someone_ had to protest—”

“Wha _no_! I never _said_ —”

Tom grins. “I believe you did. Would you like to see my memory? The Potter pensieve is right upstairs—”

“No thanks,” Harry grumbles. “So? Decoded my textbook yet?”

His boyfriend hums, the vibration echoing comfortably against Harry’s back. “I do believe so, and I think I have the perfect analogy for you.”

“Speak on, _bright angel_ ,” teases Harry, “For your presence is as _a wingèd messenger of heaven unto the white, upturnèd, wondering eyes of mortals_!”

Tom laughs and flicks him on the forehead. “Don’t you start, else I’ll never get to soothing your frustration.”

“I certainly know how you can soothe it in other ways,” Harry mutters.

“Mmm… with a bout of Shakespeare?” his companion murmurs against his skin.

“Off stage,” Harry sighs, “As long as you’ll take being banished as a prerequisite.”

“After I’ve slain your cousin.”

“Naturally.”

Harry laughs. “Or we can make like Myrrhine and Cinesias. That lowers the requirements to a mattress.”

Tom shakes his head. “And pillows. And blankets. And perfume. Tell me, do you consider yourself needy before bed?”

“As long as you’ve drawn up the peace treaty, you’ll find no complaints from me.”

“Certainly. I’ll have it drawn up momentarily— _afterwards_ , of course, since I dare not have any other see me in such a state—”

“ _You're not deceiving me about the Treaty?_ ”

Tom grins. “ _No, by my life, I'm not._ ”

“ _Raise up your head_.”

Tom lifts his chin. Harry laughs, presses but a brush or a peck of a kiss to his jaw, and when Tom leans back down for a more thorough snog, he dances out of his boyfriend’s arms to a place unreachable behind the table.

 _"You mocking changeling—fairy-born and human-bred!_ ”

“Don’t I keep you on your toes? Make you feel as you _have not felt these twelfth months_?”

“You’ve been reading _Jane Eyre_ again without me,” Tom accuses playfully.

“Says the one who first quoted it. And as much as I enjoy being read to by you, I _do_ have cravings to read on my own,” Harry replies. “Besides, as they say— _we waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day._ I’d rather spend time reading something else with you instead of fulfilling _one particular_ desire to read some Edward Rochester dialogue, which I can do on my own. You _do_ know how he amuses me so.”

“Many things amuse you.”

“Everything but recursion,” the Gryffindor can’t help but remarking. Unfortunately it also brings Tom back to the _supposed_ topic at hand—past quoting the raunchy _Lysistrata_ and making fun of Harry for reading his romance novels again, of course.

“Don’t think of it as _recursion_ ,” he begins, “think of it like…”

“Like? How do you even understand the concept anyway? As far as I know you have _no_ clue what Java even is.”

Tom waves a dismissive hand. “I may not understand its context, but the basic idea is simple. You’d understand it too, if it was explained to you as anything _but_ computer programming.”

Harry shrugs. “I’m all ears.”

“Think of it like Edgar, from _King Lear_.”

“…What?”

Tom smirks and moves back to the sitting room, knowing Harry will follow him with all his Gryffindor-lion-cat-curiosity. “You know. Edgar. Son of Gloucester. Rightful heir. Godson of King Lear. _Defeater_ of Edmund.”

“Yes yes, I know who he is, but what do you _mean_? How in Godric’s name are they in any way similar?”

“Recursion is a method to get a repetitive task done,” Tom explains patiently. “It does so by cutting the problem into smaller pieces, and calling itself until the simplest answer is gleaned.”

“You’re starting to lose me, Tom.”

“Fair enough. Back to Edgar. In _King Lear_ , Edgar has to dress up as—”

Harry answers immediately. “Tom the Bedlam, in order to disguise himself from being captured.”

“Yes. That,” Tom says, shooting him an amused look. If only Harry studied for his exams like he consumed his literature… “And actually, instead of dressing _up_ , Edgar dresses _down_. Strips down to his “basest form” and what not, yes?”

“Right.”

“Think of Edgar as the task you have to get done. Edgar, as nobility, has a high station, education, honor and ethics and morals and respectability… More than a simple _peasant_. He can’t be described with one word. One of the requirements of recursion is to have something called a “base case”—which, in this context, is Edgar’s disguise as Tom the Bedlam.”

Harry wrinkles his nose. “Wait…”

“Tom is a generality,” Tom explains, “A name used for any poor beggar on the street. In this case, every man in his basest form is poor, without clothes, without money—essentially, a homeless beggar.”

“Okay…”

“This is your base case. One thing you can say in absolute certainty about your task. _Every man stripped down is naked_ , literally; ergo, every man stripped down is a poor Tom—”

“So every man is a beggar. Gotcha. I acknowledge your _profound_ usage of syllogism,” Harry says, sticking his nose up in the air as a poor impression of Malfoy.

Tom snorts. “Draco doesn’t even know what syllogism _is_. Anyway, through the course of _King Lear_ , Edgar doesn’t receive any help trying to prove his innocence and getting back to his father, reclaiming his nobility status and toppling Edmund. Essentially, he calls upon his own strength to do what he needs to be done, yes?”

“Mhm.”

“In a recursive function, it calls upon itself to complete a task. The ‘action’, like Edgar’s strength, is within itself already.”

“Um. Okay.”

Tom nearly rolls his eyes. “Let me keep going. So Edgar starts as nobility, but quicky becomes Tom the Bedlam and remains so for most of the play. However, we do see his progression back to his nobility by transforming back up the social ladder—changing himself from Tom, to a stranger, to a peasant, to a faceless knight or some near equivalent, and then back to Edgar, son of Gloucester and rightful heir.”

“Right.”

“So goes recursion. You start with a complex, repetitive task.”

Harry nods.

“And then you begin to strip it down into smaller pieces—”

“Like clothes.”

“Yes,” Tom remarks dryly, “like clothes. And then, once you’re at your ‘basest form’, or base case, you add all the smaller pieces back up together—since you know what they are now, by getting to the base form—to get your answer. Like Edgar rebuilding himself. Or, as you’d like to put it, Edgar putting back on his clothes by himself without help from his servants.”

There is a moment of silence. The Slytherin can visually see the moment of dawning and realization set upon his companion’s face.

“…Oh.”

“Simple.”

“That’s really easy.”

Tom smirks. “I know.”

Harry scowls. “Smug prick. How the hell did you come up with that in such a short time?”

Tom shrugs, and then wandlessly summons his bag. The Gryffindor watches as he rummages around for a bit, and then pulls out a thin paperback copy of _King Lear_.

And then a golden crown.

And then a jester hat.

“Do you have swords in there too?” Harry asks, drop-dead serious.

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to sword fight, or duel?”

“…How about transfiguring our wands into swords so we can fight with _magic_?”

“That’s actually a very good idea,” he admits. “Edmund or Edgar?”

“Edgar,” Harry replies without hesitation. “You do a better dramatic death than me.”

“And _you_ do a better lunatic,” Tom agrees. “Shall we then, _dearest chuck_?”

Harry rolls his eyes and drags his boyfriend toward the dueling room. “Leave the _Macbeth_ for tomorrow!”

**Author's Note:**

> For Spatzi because I don't know why.
> 
> (Just take it).
> 
> Yeah so wish me luck on my exam tomorrow in seven, eight hours. :(
> 
> Works quoted/mentioned: Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet/King Lear/Macbeth, Euripides' Lysistrata, Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice.
> 
> (I thought I was over with this series but apparently it wasn't over with me. Break ups are hard.)
> 
> edit: By the way no matter what anyone tells you time lines dont exist in this series. They're literally Seventh and Sixth years _forever_.


End file.
